


A Hymn For Your Gods

by nyasty_boy



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Blood, Fake Chop, Gore, M/M, Torture, Violence, weird kissing and flirting?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:05:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15788613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyasty_boy/pseuds/nyasty_boy
Summary: aleks and james get their revenge





	A Hymn For Your Gods

**Author's Note:**

> ha ha yeet

They’re fire and ice. Wild and unruly, cold and calculated. They’re strong apart, but together they are an unstoppable force. Aleksandr, the serbian glacier, an ethereal blue in the desert heat of LA; james, the wildfire, a rush of dry heat and energy, ruddy cheeks and tangled hair. They combine together almost perfectly, whether it be in the line of fire or tangled together under sheets with grasping hands and mouths against sweaty, blood stained skin. They would kill for each other, losing their weak grasp on their control and massacring anyone that dared hurt their counterpart.

Today was one of those days; however, they decided to use this to their advantage.

The latest man, average height with greying hair and an ugly scar on the side of his head, had caught aleks off guard, taking him down with a smoke bomb and a rusted crowbar. They had managed to capture him in the act, brett striking the man down before james could slaughter him where he stood, instead sending the vengeful man to aleks’ side. They dragged him back to a safehouse, off the grid in the middle of the desert, and tied him up securely in the basement, AC at full blast and the cold room only getting colder as night set in. The gas mask the man used is still around his neck, a crack in one of the lenses and a blood splatter across the front, and the crowbar is on the trolley a few feet away. The room is dark, dingy, water stained lights not doing much to illuminate anything. The floor, previously tiled with white slabs, is covered with various shades of red and brown, the coppery stench still filling the room. The walls are still white, though, with the occasional splatter.

The door opens suddenly with a loud screech, hinges protesting and practically making the room shake with the harsh sound. James is the first to step in, face gloomy and stern, followed by aleks. He’s still in a bit of a state, face bruised dark up one side and an arm wrapped around his own body for support. James is still in his clothes from the job, a black tee with a leather jacket, patched up messily with amateur stitching, none of the threads matching the leather, and some blood stained jeans, faded at the knees and the seat, a loose thread hanging at the thigh. Aleks is now in more casual clothes; a pair of grey sweats with shallow pockets, phone poking out slightly, and a black vest, tattooed arms out in the open in all their bruised and bandaged glory. He’s barefoot, too, the padding of his feet against cold tile ringing out uncomfortably in the room, but he doesn't seem to care, the cold echoing his most comfortable space.

James steps forwards and pulls a second chair out, quickly returning to aleks’ side and guiding him over with a hand on the small of his back. It’s the calmest he’s been for a while, pressed close to aleks and doing his best to hide him from the man that _tried to take him away_ \- aleks settles a hand on his shoulder, smiling small and soothing, a look in his eye reading _calm, he can't hurt me._ James nods slow and settles the fire in his chest, quelling it to gentle embers, only there to keep _his_ aleks warm. He settles in the seat, shifting to sit at an angle on the chair, before coaxing aleks into his lap, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him steady and settling his chin gently on his shoulder, glaring at the man across from them.

Aleks is careful, he settles down and settles one of his hands over james’ where it rests on his stomach and wincing very slightly at the press of a warm hand against the tender flesh. He links their fingers, sighing out and rolling his shoulders before looking to the man again, eyes dark and icy as he talks, each word a sharp noise in the tense silence, “who do you work for?” The man says nothing, staring them down quietly. He’s obviously nervous, sweat beading on his brow and lip close to bleeding with how hard he’s chewing at it, fingers clutching at the arms of the chair and causing the aged wood to creak. Aleks can't help but commend his bravery, but he knows he’ll break.

They all do, eventually.

“It would be smart if you spoke now, you know. We would kill you much faster,” aleks’ voice is airy and casual, a sweet smile spreading across his face, “maybe we’d let you say goodbye to your family, too.”

The man sneers, “either way, you’ll sic your dog on me,” he gestures his head towards james, “he’s more like your _bitch_ , with how he follows you around, a desperate boy looking for some order. Does he wear a leash when you’re alone?”

Aleks just sighs, shaking his head slow, “you think you’re so funny, don't you? No one’s laughing. First you hurt me,” james stiffens at that, arm wrapping tighter around aleks with a low growl, “then, you insult my jamie?” he strokes feather light fingers along james’ arm, nails dragging slightly against the grain of his arm hair, fingers catching slightly on the smooth scar tissue, “we can't have that, now, can we?” aleks looks back at james, eyes soft and mouth down turned into a small frown.

James shakes his head with a slow frown, leaning up and bumping his nose against aleks’ as a small act of comfort, intimacy in such a heartless room, love overflowing from the flames and into the ice, “no, we can't, doll…” he gently stands up, helping aleks with his hands on his hips and letting them linger against the pale skin before gently sitting him down, kissing his forehead with little more than a brush of lips against the sweat slicked skin, the warmth of james’ mouth sending a shudder through aleks. James strides over to the trolley carefully, boots ringing out in the small room, and studies each of the weapons carefully. They had been cultivated from many places; from traitors with fingers too fast on the trigger, from assassins with sharp tongues and even sharper knives, from hackers who were in over their heads with household objects and sheer determination. The crew decided that they shouldn't use their own tools during interrogation, during torture. As they say - you should keep business and pleasure apart.

But james can't help the rush of bliss that comes from the way the man trembles in his seat at the sight of the crowbar, the same one he had used on aleks mere hours before. His fingers wrap carefully around the rough metal, rust coming off on the pads of his fingers in reddish brown smears and flaking off to the floor. He walks back over, dragging the curve of the metal bar against the man’s cheek and reveling in the soft whimper, looking to aleks for orders, for _guidance_.

Aleks smiles sweetly in return, ice cracking under the heat and letting a refreshing stream of water flow, “make him hurt, my love. Hurt him like he hurt me, like he hurt _you_.” james’ fingers tighten around the metal and he doesn't hesitate before swinging the metal down harshly onto the man’s chest, the cry of anguish sending a low thrum of pleasure through him, deep and bassy. Aleks watches on quietly, studying his flame and watching it turn to a violent beast, the crowbar coming down over and over against the man’s body. The final strike, shattering the man’s left forearm and causing the bone to break away cleanly, breaks the man in a similar fashion.

“Fake AH! I work for Fake AH!”

Aleks hides his noise of disgust, shaking his head and standing slow. He walks over carefully, stroking over james’ arm as he passes before settling in the man’s lap, straddling him elegantly and gently bringing his hands up to the man’s neck. He strokes along the warm flesh - not warm like james, instead warm and tacky with fear and sweat and adrenaline - and croons sweetly, leaning down and pressing their heads together. The man leans into it, sobbing softly in pain as he presses eagerly into the gentle touches, craving the sweet words and tones.

This is what aleks is good at, wearing them down mentally if james can't break them physically. The ice a formidable opponent to the strong mind. Aleks brings his hands up to hold the man’s face, smiling soft and gentle as he wipes the tears away before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, both mouths tasting of copper, yet one lined with the indescribable and addictive taste of _fear_. He separates slow, thumb brushing along his bottom lip and wiping some blood away, “baby, we can't have you lying, can we? That’s not very nice…”

James watches on, the fire burning stronger as he watches the man give in to aleks’ vices. Aleks is _his_ , always has been and always will be, no matter the situation. The pleasure that comes with the man’s blatant fear, though, makes it all worth it, “n-no, please, i- uh- i'm telling the truth! I'm not lying!”

Aleks tuts, leaning in close and pressing a comforting kiss to the man’s jaw and spreading them down along the tight chords in his neck, taking a knife offered by james and smiling a little against the man’s skin, “you see, baby, i can _tell_ you’re lying…” he gently slides his hands up the man’s shirt, unbuttoning it smoothly as he goes and pressing his palms flat to the strong chest, too smooth for his liking, not thick and hairy like his james, “the golden boy raised me up, made me who i am today, gave me my best weapon...” the first press of the knife, just the flat side, cool against his skin, “the king pin taught me to love my crew, gave me my first tattoo and held my hand though it…” he twists the knife, the blunt end creating a white line where it causes the man’s skin to strain slightly, “the vagabond and mogar taught me to control my anger, to let it fester before unleashing it, they helped me at my worst and encouraged me at my best…” he turns the blade to the sharp side, ghosting it along the man’s ribs and tracing subtle shapes, “brown man, rimmy tim, beardo… they all lead me here, they made me who i am now, and yet…” he adjusts his grip on the knife, kissing the corner of the man’s mouth with a soft sigh, “you claim you work for them. Why should i believe you?”

The man sobs desperately, quaking in his seat and using his good hand to grip the arm of the chair, “i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i don't know who they worked for, they just hired me, it was a hit, i didn't-” he gasps and goes silent when the tip of the knife, cold and sharp, presses against his neck, the knife shifting slightly with his thrumming pulse.

“Another lie.” aleks is slowly beginning to lose his patience, twisting the knife and watching the single drop of blood rise up and travel along the knife before dripping off onto the man’s pants. The ice is beginning to crack, tremors shaking the foundations, “why can't you be good for me, baby?”

All the man can do is sob and pant a breathy _i'm sorry_ over and over, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. James watches quietly, studying aleks and the way his back bows slightly, the hand with the knife tight in its grip shaking gently, the other hand gripping the back of the man’s chair. He steps forwards, standing behind aleks and gently moving him to rest against his abdomen, settling a gentle hand on his chest with a soft hum. Aleks looks up at james quietly, letting his walls down for just a moment; he's tired, the painkillers are wearing off and he’s slowly growing breathless, but he uses that to his advantage. He leans into james’ warmth, grinning soft at the man, “baby, i know you’re sorry, we’re gonna make sure you are.” his innocent tone greatly contrasts the words that flow out, too sweet and sticky like grenadine.

For the first cut, aleks moves the blade down to the fleshy part of his abdomen and cuts slow and shallow, then bringing the knife back across the same line in a saw motion, “sing, baby. Sing a choir song for me, nice and loud…” the man grits his teeth, determined, his chest heaving as he sucks in shallow breaths.

Aleks frowns at the silence, furrowing his brows. James lets out a low snarl at this, fire licking gently at ice as he kisses aleks’ temple before stepping behind the man, threading a hand in his greying hair and tugging harshly so he faces aleks, voice sharp and foreboding, “he said _sing,_ ” james digs his thumb into the shattered bones of his left forearm and pressing the upper half down, separating the bone further before pinching the lower half, “so you’d better sing, or i’ll make sure you never fucking _talk_.”

The howling wail the man lets out brings a bright smile to aleks’ face, one that assures james he would do anything to never see it wiped away from his handsome face. He grips the man’s arm tighter, skin starting to split where the bone pierces through, blood trickling out before pouring out along the arm of the chair, adding fresh crimson to the dull reds and browns on the floor. Aleks watches with a hungry look, eyes meeting james’ and, despite the pain lancing through him every few moments, aleks falls even more in love with the crazed man before him.

He laughs soft, sweet like honey and just as sticky, capturing both men in front of him in a trap of bliss, “that’s it, baby, such a pretty tune…” he takes the knife away from the messy groove in his stomach, dragging it up the man’s body before slicing the skin of his chest gently, “and as much as i love it, we need the truth from you. We’re gonna continue like this until you tell the truth,” he leans forwards, mouth brushing the shell of the man’s ear, “or until you bleed out; we’re not gonna get tired, cause hurting you makes my jamie happy, and if he's happy, i'm happy…” he moves his arms around the man’s neck, dragging the knife along and creating a deep cut trailing along his shoulder and around the back of his neck.

James hums, kissing the back of aleks’ hand with a low grumble, “i'm certainly very happy…”

Aleks nods, smiling sweet against the man’s temple and shuddering at the meek whimper, “so… who do you work for?”

The man shudders, hiccuping before whispering his answer, trying his best to move his head but unable to due to the tight grip in his hair. Aleks smiles so sweet and beautiful, sighing out happily and kissing the man’s forehead before taking his face into his hands, “thank you so much, baby, now i can go rest up…” aleks stands slow, shuffling over to the trolley and placing the knife down after cleaning it off, then turning to james and shuffling closer before pecking his lips soft, hugging his neck. This is more tender, more loving and kind than with the man, more honest, “you’re free to have your fun now, jamie, m’gonna go lay down for a bit, my chest hurts…”

James nods slow, kissing aleks’ jaw soft, mouth ghosting over the mottled bruises, “you sure you don't want me with you? He can wait until tomorrow, and i don't want you alone…”

Aleks leans into the gentle touches before wincing, sighing again and nodding, “yeah, honey. You have your fun, but don't take too long,” he grins, soft and sweet, before stepping away, turning around and walking to the door. He steps out and shuts it after himself, lingering briefly to listen to the begging and pleading for mercy, then retreating off to bed for rest.

The ice is cold and the fire is hot. The ice is melted by the fire, the fire is put out by the water. They are each other’s weakness, yet they wouldn't change it for the world.


End file.
